He shook his head sadly and shifted his gaze to an electric plug socket.

"It's the Government," he told it. "And all this education racket. It gives them ideas. They come back and tell us what they think. They can't think, most of them, anyway. All they know is things out of books. That's no good in our business. Bring in the answers - that's all that's needed - no thinking."

Mr Goby flung himself back in his chair and winked at a lampshade.

"Mustn't crab the Government, though! Don't know really what we'd do without it. I can tell you that nowadays you can walk in most anywhere with a notebook and pencil, dressed right, and speaking BBC, and ask people all the most intimate details of their daily lives and all their back history, and what they had for dinner on November 23rd because that was a test day for middle-class incomes - or whatever it happens to be (making it a grade above to butter them up!) - ask 'em any mortal thing you can; and nine times out of ten they'll come across pat, and even the tenth time though they may cut up rough, they won't doubt for a minute that you're what you say you are - and that the Government really wants to know - for some completely unfathomable reason! I can tell you, M. Poirot," said Mr Goby, still talking to the lampshade, "that it's the best line we've ever had; much better than taking the electric meter or tracing a fault in the telephone - yes, or than calling as nuns, or the Girl Guides or the Boy Scouts asking for subscriptions - though we use all those too. Yes, Government snooping is God's gift to investigators and long may it continue!"

Poirot did not speak. Mr Goby had grown a little garrulous with advancing years, but he would come to the point in his own good time.

"Ar," said Mr Goby and took out a very scrubby little notebook. He licked his finger and flicked, over the pages. "Here we are. Mr George Crossfield. We'll take him first. Just the plain facts. You won't want to know how I got them. He's been in Queer Street for quite a while now. Horses, mostly, and gambling - he's not a great one for women. Goes over to France now and then, and Monte too. Spends a lot of time at the Casino. Too downy to cash cheques there, but gets hold of a lot more money than his travelling allowance would account for. I didn't go into that, because it wasn't what you want to know. But he's not scrupulous about evading the law - and being a lawyer he knows how to do it. Some reason to believe that he's been using, trust funds entrusted, to him to invest. Plunging pretty wildly of late - on the Stock Exchange and on the gee-gees! Bad judgment and bad luck. Been off his feed badly for three months. Worried, bad-tempered and irritable in the office. But since his uncle's death that's all changed. He's like the breakfast eggs (if we had 'em). Sunny side up!